


Last Train for Christmas

by Exdraghunt



Series: Steel bodies, Human Hearts [5]
Category: Polar Express - All Media Types, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5527802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Streamlined engine Skookum isn't having a good first Christmas on Sodor, when a mysterious train breaks down on the island late on the night of Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Train for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> So last week I watched Polar Express for the first time in several years and, as happens whenever I watch anything that has to do with trains, immediately went "but what if Thomas crossover."
> 
> This does star my original character, a streamlined engine from the Pacific Northwest named Skookum, but also prominently features Edward and the engine that pulls the Polar Express, Pere Marquette 1225.
> 
> Note that this fic does not occur during the Polar Express movie, so there's no "lost ticket/kids mess everything up" subplot. I mostly just wanted something short (well, relatively) and sweet for my own enjoyment this holiday season.

Christmas Eve on the Island of Sodor and everyone was busy making sure everything was ready for the holiday. Decorated trees stood tall and proud in city centers and every building was festooned with bright lights and garlands. The foot of snow on the ground didn’t even slow train service as engines raced across the island to make sure everyone would be home for Christmas. 

Especially busy was the mainland service, carrying hundreds of people headed to either the mainland or the island in order to visit family. Conner and Caitlin had been roped in to assist, and still every train was filled to capacity. 

At Barrow-in-Furness, Skookum waited impatiently at the platform for passengers to load up. It was the last run of the Northwest Limited for the night, and the streamliner was looking forward to getting back to their shed for a rest. This was Skookum’s first Christmas on the island, and they just weren’t feeling the seasonal cheer the way everyone else did. To be honest, they still missed their home. Where the streetcars, festooned in lights and garlands, greeted everyone with a cheery ‘Merry Christmas’ and the Cascade Mountains received several feet of snow. 

The guard’s whistle blew and the green flag waved, indicating that all were aboard and the train was ready to go. Skookum blew their whistle and pulled out of the station with a heavy heart, quickly picking up speed as they headed for the Vicarstown bridge. This was at least familiar territory, the hum of the rails and click clack of high speed coaches strung out behind. Fortunately, the other engines had worked hard to clear snow from the mainline so the island’s express engines could run unimpeded by clumsy snowploughes. 

Skookum blew their whistle as Conner raced by the other way before slowing to a stop at Wellsworth station. The blue streamliner was headed back for the mainland for the evening, presumably headed for whatever shed he and Caitlin shared. Passengers disembarked quickly, greeting family members waiting on the platform with smiles and hugs. Skookum sighed and continued on towards Knapford. 

Once the last passenger was off and the coaches returned to their shed, Skookum stopped at the Knapford water tower to top off their tender. As the water poured, snowflakes began to fall again from heavy clouds above. A white Christmas indeed. 

A sharp whistle sounded and Skookum looked over to see little Thomas on the track next to them, his plough white with snow. 

“Hello, Skookum. Look, more snow! At least it held off until we were done for the day.” Thomas smiled as he looked up at the clouds. “Headed back to the sheds?”

“Yes, just finished up the last run of the Limited. I intend to spend the day off asleep.” Skookum didn’t have much to look forward to with the day off. Spending the day in the sheds only reminded the streamliner of the years they spent in reserve, boiler empty and firebox cold. 

“Me and Percy are gonna stay up late and leave the shed doors open.” Thomas said excitedly, “This year, we’re definitely going to see Santa Claus. You know he flies over the whole world delivering presents in just one night. We figure, some time tonight he’ll have to fly over Sodor.”

Skookum snorted. Was the tank engine serious? “You know Santa is just a human tale, right? He isn’t real.”

“Of course he is!” Thomas insisted. “How else would the children get all the presents? And we’re going to see him tonight, just you wait.”

With that, the tank engine departed for Tidmouth while Skookum made for the Knapford sheds. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that Thomas was actually one of the older engines on the island. 

Unfortunately for Skookum, their idea of a peaceful Christmas was shattered by the other residents of Knapford sheds. The sheds were occupied by a rotating assortment of engines, but usually at least a few of the shunters that resided in the yard could be found spending the night there. That night, with the likes of Charlie and Rosie in the shed, it soon became clear that Skookum wouldn’t be getting much in the way of sleep that night. 

It was nearing midnight when Skookum gave up on trying to block out the voices of the smaller engines. This was a stupid and probably terrible idea, but at that point Skookum would do almost anything to find another shed for the night. Unlike a coal-burning engine, which required a fireman to continually shovel coal in order to keep steam up, Skookum burned oil and could, to a point, control their own fuel intake and fire themselves. It took a bit to get the fire lit, but with that done Skookum carefully adjusted the steam atomizer and the fuel pump until it felt right before pulling out of the shed. 

A few minutes later, Skookum reflected on just what an awful idea this was. No driver or fireman or guard meant no one to alert the signalmen which direction they were headed. Not that there were any signalmen on duty anyway, the last scheduled mainline train had run an hour ago. The rails carried the streamliner slowly towards Tidmouth, and Skookum wondered just what they would do when (if) they managed to get to Tidmouth Sheds. 

Skookum was coming up on Lower Tidmouth when they were surprised to see a blue tender on the rails ahead. “Edward?”

“Skookum?” Edward slowed, allowing the streamliner to come alongside him. “What are you doing out this late?”

“I could ask the same of you. I was in Knapford sheds, but the engines there tonight are a bit. . . “Skookum searched for the right word that wouldn’t sound too rude. “like ‘tenas tillikums’?”

“Noisy?” Edward suggested. “Yes, the little shunters who work at Knapford can be a bit excitable. Especially with Christmas here, I’m sure. As for me, I got caught late at the docks. I could spend the night at Wellsworth. But, well, I’d like to try and get to Tidmouth so I can spend tomorrow with James.”

“Nawitka, of course.” Must be nice, having someone to spend the holidays with. “Don’t know how quiet it’ll be there either. Thomas was saying he and Percy are going to try and stay up all night to see Santa.”

Edward chuckled. “Yes, they do that every year. And every year they fall asleep and miss him. But it does keep them asleep through most of Christmas day, which is alright.”

Skookum joined the older engine in laughter. “Imagine an engine believing in Santa Claus.”

For some reason, this seemed to amuse Edward even more. “So you believe in ghosts and monsters, but not Father Christmas?”

“Well, we’ve got evidence for monsters and ghosts.” Skookum defended, “We’ve seen ‘em! But I’ve certainly never seen flying reindeer pulling a sleigh on Christmas.” They paused for a moment, looking at Edward suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you believe.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Edward didn’t lose his little smile. “There’s more to Christmas than Santa, after all. It’s all about being kind, and helping others, and giving. And if Father Christmas helps people remember that, then whether he’s real or not isn’t that important.”

Skookum frowned at the blue engine’s wise and rational answer, but secretly loved the opportunity to have an intelligent debate. Before the streamliner could form a rebuttal, however, there was a loud whistle from down the tracks. 

“Kahta?-“ Skookum squinted at the bright headlight visible through the falling snow. The whistle sounded again, and it wasn’t one either engine recognized. “Who else could be out this time of night? On Christmas Eve?”

“The Midnight Express?” Edward guessed hesitantly, naming the ghost train that was sometimes sighted on the island in the late night hours. But the whistle was all wrong. 

A train blew past the two on the third mainline track. The pair could make out a large, black tender engine with a line of fine coaches as it thundered by moving at high speed, but the train was unfamiliar to them both. Just as the trailing observation car cleared Skookum’s tender, there was a bang followed by the squeal of applied brakes. 

Edward and Skookum looked at eachother, then as one shifted into reverse and backed down the track to where the mysterious passenger train had come to a halt. They didn’t know who it was visiting their island this late at night, but it was clear whoever it was needed help. 

 

 

Another Christmas Eve, another run for the Polar Express. The Conductor flipped open his pocketwatch and clicked it shut again. At this point, it was more of a nervous tic than out of an actual need to check the time. The Polar Express was always on time after all, as long as they kept moving and the magic kept working. 

They were making a pickup on a small island off the coast of Britain, humming along nicely, when the Conductor felt the whole train shudder and was nearly thrown off his feet by sudden deceleration. After giving some reassurances to the children on board, the man stomped down from one of the coaches and trod through the snow towards the enormous engine. 

“What in the blue blazes was that?” The Conductor demanded of the engineer, Steamer, who was examining the locomotive’s large drivers. “Why have we stopped? Need I remind you we are on a schedule?”

“We broke a crosshead pin!” Steamer cried in frustration, and now the Conductor could see the way one of the heavy steel arms of the driving gear was hanging freely. “Could take hours to fix, even if we had the part.”

“Which we don’t!” Smokey, the fireman, added from the cab. Clearly, he had been digging around in the meager spare parts kept on board. Usually, the magic that prevented the engine from having to stop for water or coal also kept it from breaking down. Parts and tools weren’t something they ever needed. 

“Well that’s just great!” There was no one to really blame for the broken part, no one to yell at, and no real way out of this mess. This didn’t stop the Conductor from throwing his hat on the ground for lack of anyone to be angry at. “There can’t be Christmas without the Polar Express!”

“Look, I drive locomotives, I don’ fix ‘em.” Steamer crouched down and lifted the hefty main rod, examining how it had come free from the crosshead. “We might be able to get ‘er moving, but we ain’t gonna go very fast on one piston.”

The Conductor was about ready to pull out what remained of his hair when he heard the distinctive chuffing of a steam locomotive. That in of itself was rare, there weren’t many places still using steam engines and none of them would run a train this late on Christmas Eve. Then there was the fact that most adults couldn’t see the magical train at all, which meant that the Polar Express usually remained relatively unbothered by normal railway operations. 

Turning, the Conductor was amazed to see a pair of steam engines puff to a stop on the adjacent tracks. One was enormous and black with a streamlined housing, the other fairly small in a bright shade of blue. Even more incredible, though, was the fact that they had faces. The man had certainly heard of living machines, but they were so rare in the modern age he had never seen one in person. 

"Kloshe polaklie, sikhs. Has your engine broken down?” The black streamliner spoke, soft voice belying the sheer size of the machine. “Do you need help?”

“We have a locomotive works on the island, but I’m afraid there won’t be anyone there with the holiday.” The smaller blue engine added. 

“Well that won’t do.” The Conductor tried to tone down his frustration; the two engines were only trying to help after all. “This train absolutely, positively has to get to its destination tonight!”

“And ‘less you got a crosshead match pin in our size, we ain’t gonna make it.” Steamer added. 

“Well.” Skookum looked at the broken-down engine and its train of coaches thoughtfully. “Spose. I could take the train. If you’re really desperate. I’m strong, and fast. Where are you headed?”

That certainly would be unorthodox, to have an engine other than Pere Marquette 1225 pull the Polar Express. But every second they sat there on the tracks was a second wasted and a chance they could be, horror of horrors, late. And the Polar Express was never. Late. 

The decision was easy. The Conductor put his hat back on his head and put on his best official smile. “Why the North Pole, of course. This is the –Polar- Express. And we would be most grateful if you would help us reach our destination on time.”

“The North Pole?” Skookum repeated, trying to figure out if that was some kind of odd put on. 

“Yes, of course! This train is full of children excited to meet Santa Claus, and we cannot disappoint them. The Polar Express must not be late!” The Conductor flicked open his pocketwatch, grimaced at whatever he saw, and snapped it shut again. 

Some kind of special holiday excursion then? Maybe this was a normal Sodor thing, or British tradition. Though Edward seemed just as surprised. But if there was one thing Skookum knew for certain, it’s that nothing was more important than making children happy. Especially on Christmas. 

“Well then, we can’t let the children down.” Skookum said, playing along with whatever the game was. Slowly the streamliner backed down the track to a siding where they could get turned around. 

As Skookum chuffed away, Edward looked to the broken-down engine. It would have to be uncoupled from the train, of course, but Edward didn’t like the idea of leaving any engine out in the snow on Christmas. Even a non-living one. 

“Could I shunt your engine to a shed for you?” Edward asked, “The locomotive works will open again Boxing Day, until then there’s a shed not too far from here.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.” Steamer replied. He hoped that the magic would somehow heal the broken engine before then, but there was really no telling. 

Continuing down the track to a set of points, Edward’s driver climbed down from the cab to switch them over to the adjacent track. 

“Thank you for doing this, driver.” Edward said quietly, eternally grateful for the two men he had for a crew. He knew he was keeping the two humans out far past when they should have been home, yet they had not complained once. 

“It’s fine, Edward.” Charlie, the driver, grunted as he manually set the points and climbed back up into the cab. “Like you said earlier, Christmas is for helping people.”

Once on the next track over, Edward rolled slowly up to the disabled locomotive. He would never get used to the sheer size of American locomotives, even after working with several. 

Stopping just a few inches from the other engine, it was then that Edward realized another problem. Because the locomotive in front of him had a knuckle coupling, and that was very incompatible with Edward’s buffer and chain type. 

Edward was just about to say something when, in front of his eyes, the bulky knuckle morphed and changed into. . . a hook and a pair of buffers. 

“Well.” Edward said in disbelief. “That. Certainly makes things easier.”

His driver didn’t notice anything strange as he came forward with the shunter’s pole and coupled the two locomotives together. Edward slowly brought the coupling taut and started to move the other engine forward when there was a loud “wait, wait, wait!” and a man with a ground-scraping red beard ran forward and jumped back up into the cab of the engine. 

Edward immediately stopped and waited while the man knocked about for a moment before jumping back down with something small clenched in his hand. As soon as he was clear, Edward started moving again. Back at the points, he switched to another track and began pushing the large American engine towards the shed in southern Tidmouth. 

With the engine out of the way, Skookum, now turned around, was able to back down on the train. They had a brief moment of worry upon remembering they had been converted to the British buffer and chain system, but as the streamliner made contact with the coaches they felt the old familiar connection of a knuckle coupler. Just like they used to have. 

Steamer worked quickly to hook up the brake and heating hoses, while Smokey hopped up into the cab to place the white device he had taken from the other engine on the backhead. The small capacitor contained the magic that allowed the Polar Express to exist outside of time, outside of space, almost outside of normal reality. 

“My name is Skookum, by the way.” The streamliner commented. There was an odd clank as the capacitor was attached, then Skookum gasped at the sudden rush of power that resulted. On their shell, the green livery turned red and the “Northern Pacific” letters on their tender morphed to say “Polar Express.”

“Uh, good you meet you?” Steamer wasn’t exactly accustomed to introducing himself to a steam engine. “I’m Steamer. Fireman’s named Smokey.” Climbing up into the cab, the engineer suddenly seemed to realize something strange. “Wait. Don’ you have a crew?”

“I was. Uh. Running by myself.” Skookum flushed a bit, still feeling somewhat lightheaded from the odd device, whatever it had been. They had broken a number of railroad rules by leaving the shed on their own, but now they were glad they had. 

“You can do that?” A locomotive that could drive itself. What next?

Smokey, meanwhile, was frowning at the distinct lack of something quite important. “Where’s yer coal?”

Again with the coal questions. Skookum rolled their eyes. “I burn oil. Don’t worry, my tender’s full.”

“Well what am I supposed to shovel?!” 

The indignant cry was immediately followed by another from the vestibule of one of the coaches. “What is the hold up?! We have a very tight schedule to keep!”

A smirk spread across Skookum’s face as they began to roll, coaches following behind one by one. Conductors were all the same, wired too tight. And as for the fireman. “You get to control the fuel regulator and steam atomizer, of course.”

Smokey looked at the aforementioned controls dubiously and slumped against the tender. But he liked shoveling. 

Steamer laughed at his unfortunate friend, then turned his attention back to memorizing the controls in front of him. There were all the same things he was used to, but in slightly different locations. Steamer didn't consider himself a particularly smart or wise man, but if he could be allowed to brag a little, he was one hell of an engine driver. He prided himself on that one fact. And that meant knowing the controls in the cab of the engine like an extension of his own body. 

'Of course' Steamer thought as the reverser clunked down a few notches on its own, 'It certainly makes it a bit more interesting to have things move by themselves.'

“Hey, I'm supposed to do that!” He called out the cab, assuming that the engine would somehow be able to hear him against the wind. 

“Sorry!” The voice reverberated from all around, seeming to come from the very metal of the cab itself. 

As the hands on the controls became more confident and less tentative, Skookum let themselves relax. Keeping track of every little thing was sometimes exhausting, and it was so much nicer to let the engineer handle it. 

Snowy scenery rushed by, the sights of Sodor now familiar even in the dark. They had gotten further than Skookum had thought, already to Croven's Gate now. Then the next second Vicarstown. Across the rolling bridge through Barrow-in-Furness, past the station where Skookum had always stopped to turn around and onto unfamiliar rail. Just how far was this so-called 'Polar Express' going?

Nothing alongside the tracks was familiar to the streamlined engine as the train thundered along, going as fast as feasible to try and make up for lost time. Skookum had no way of gauging how far they had come when the brakes were applied and they came to a quiet stop. There was no station anywhere visible. In fact, somehow, they seemed to be in the middle of a residential neighborhood. 

“What the-“ Skookum looked around in confusion. There couldn’t possibly be tracks here, not with cars sitting barely a foot from their sideplates. Yet, the streamliner could clearly feel tracks under their wheels, even if none were visible in the snow on the street in front of them. 

The houses around were all silent and dark, the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating snowmen and drifts in the small yards. There wasn’t a single homeowner rushing out to see why in the world a 200-ton steam locomotive plus train had appeared in front of their houses. 

Just as Skookum was wondering just why they had stopped, the front door to one of the houses creaked open and a small figure crept out. It was a young boy, perhaps 8 or 9, dressed in flannel pajamas and slippers. 

“Is that who we stopped for?” Skookum wondered aloud. 

“Course. Just a routine pick-up,” Steamer answered from the cab. “Got several more to do tonight.”

“And why are there train tracks running down a neighborhood street?” Back in America, Skookum had occasionally run on urban track, through the city centers with cars all around. But never through streets crowded with people’s homes. 

Steamer couldn’t help but laugh. “The Polar Express makes its own tracks. Don’t worry, the magic knows where we’re going.”

“Magic?” It was real, of course, for how else could human-made machines have life? But how in the world did it explain tracks popping into existence where there had been none before?

From behind them, Skookum heard a cry of “All Aboard!” Good, they were to be on their way again. Skookum’s driving wheels began to turn, but had barely made a full revolution before the same voice cried “Stop!” and a hand threw the brakes hard on.

A minute later the Conductor stomped up to the front of the engine, “What was that?”

“Iktah?” Skookum asked defensively. “I heard ‘All Aboard,’ so I started.”

“I was calling for the child to board. You nearly left us behind!”

“Well then you shouldn’t say ‘All Aboard’ unless everyone is aboard.” Skookum replied a bit crossly. It was simple railroading, after all. 

The Conductor frowned, but could see that nothing would come of this argument except wasted time and went back to the coaches. 

 

\------  
The South Tidmouth shed was a small, two-stall affair. It was sometimes used for storing coaches, or for engines when Tidmouth roundhouse was full. Fortunately, that night both stalls were empty. Edward shunted the broken-down Pere Marquette 1225 into one stall, then backed into the second stall himself. 

“Sorry we have to leave you here, Edward.” Charlie apologized as he and Sidney prepared the blue engine for the night. 

“It’s alright,” Edward reassured. He had wanted to spend the day with James, but wasn’t about to force his crew to stay out so late on the holiday. They had already put in many hours of overtime. There was at least another engine here with him, even if she probably wouldn’t be the most talkative of shedmates. 

After the humans had left for the night, Edward sighed and sank a little lower on his frame. Next to him, the large American locomotive was silent and dark. 

“I wish you could talk.” Edward whispered softly. “Be nice to have some company on Christmas.”

\-----

 

At the next Polar Express stop, several minutes after the first, Skookum was satisfied to hear the Conductor call out “Now boarding for the Polar Express!” Then came the cry of “All Aboard” and it really was time to continue on.

Several more stops were made, the scenery blurring oddly between towns. Here and there Skookum got a snapshot glimpse of tall skyscrapers, or wide expanses of snow-covered prairie, and the streamliner thought that they seemed to somehow be travelling impossible distances. 

Then, Skookum saw something that took their breath away. The skyline was achingly familiar, one the engine thought they’d never see again. 

“That- that’s Seattle.” They flew through King Street Station and somehow found themselves in the northern residential neighborhoods. “Kahta-“

“Yep.” Steamer commented idly in the cab, gently applying the brake. “We’ve got a pickup at. . . Northeast 83rd street. Nearly the last, we’ve got one more to do to the north and then the North Pole!”

“We’re really going to the North Pole, then?” Skookum murmured. It was still hard to believe. But they somehow had made it to America from Britain, and after that nothing was impossible. The real question was what would they find once they got there. Just snow and ice? Or would there actually be elves, reindeer, and. . . maybe even Santa Claus?

Or maybe Skookum was actually still in the shed at Knapford, and this was all just some kind of weird dream. 

“Is this a dream?” A small voice came from in front of the train, where a small child in a nightgown was staring up at Skookum with wonder. 

Dream or no, there could be no disappointing children. Skookum smiled. “Of course not. Welcome aboard the Polar Express.”

The child’s mouth opened into a little “O” of wonder at the sight of a steam locomotive actually speaking to them, before the Conductor came over and gently ushered the child on board. 

One more stop was made a few minutes later, somewhere in the plains of Canada, then Steamer grinned and rubbed his hands together. On the other side of the cab, Smokey left off his contemplation of the fuel controls and gave the magical capacitor a tap. Pickups were finished, time to get the train onto the Express track to the North Pole. The railroad that only existed for one night a year. 

Skookum felt an odd jolt, and suddenly visible were a set of shining tracks leading off into the distance. They were oddly free of snow, despite the flurries still falling, and gleamed as though newly built. 

The hand on the throttle eased it open, until Skookum was running flat out. It wasn’t something they often did, doing such ran through water and oil too fast. But then, if the magic was getting them to the North Pole, maybe it was also keeping the tender full. 

Trees whipped by in a blurr of green pine needles and white snow, tall mountains reaching up into the distance. Skookum had no fear of mountains, had spent most of their career crossing the spines of the Rocky and Cascade mountains, but the driver kept them up full as the track began to climb. 

“Alright,” Skookum gritted their teeth. “Here we go.”

The grade climbed even steeper than Gordon’s Hill, the sheer weight of the train holding Skookum back as they neared the top of the slope. Just as the train crested the summit, Skookum felt the hand on the throttle ease back and caught sight of the downhill on the other side. There was just enough time to think “Oh Shit!” before the coaches shoved the locomotive over the hump and down towards an ominous looking tunnel at the bottom of the valley. 

No Rocky Mountain grade compared to whatever maniac designed this railroad. There wasn’t room to think, or even breathe, as the train hurtled downhill. Skookum only prayed to the great Saghalie Tyee that nothing lay across the tracks and that there weren’t any sharp curves ahead, because there was absolutely no way of stopping the train now. 

“Flat Top Tunnel,” Steamer announced as the world turned dark for the briefest moment before they exploded out the other side of the mountain. 

And as things flashed into blackness, Skookum felt something land on their tender with a thump. Either part of the roof of the tunnel had given way. Or, they had a hitchhiker. 

“There’s something on the tender.” Skookum switched over to their human form, materializing in the middle of the cab and giving both Smokey and Steamer the fright of their lives. 

“Je-sus!” Smokey jumped badly, knocking over the lonely stoker’s shovel leaning against the wall. “Where’d you come from?”

“I’m Skookum. The Locomotive you’re riding in.” Of course, the two men wouldn’t be used to having ghosts suddenly appear in front of them like Sudrian crews were. No matter. “There’s something on the tender. I’m going to check it out.”

“But-“ Steamer’s protest fell on deaf ears as Skookum clambered up onto the slick, black surface of their tender. 

Up in the falling snow, Skookum was greeted by the sound of irate cussing. A man in ragged, well-worn clothing lay face down on the curved surface of the oil tank, and clearly wasn’t happy about it. 

“The fuck is this?” The Hobo sat up and rubbed at his forehead, “Where’s the goddamn coal?”

“It’s an oil tender.” Skookum announced, making the man look up at them sharply. 

“Oil tender? The Pere Marquette 1225 don’ burn oil.” The Hobo examined the figure standing in front of them curiously. “And who the hell are you, anyway? They finally get rid of that annoying-ass conductor?”

“Pere Marquette 1225 isn’t pulling the train. I am.” A hint of smugness infected Skookum’s voice. “I am Northern Pacific A1 class ‘Four Aces.’ Also called Skookum.”

“I see, you’re like me.” The Hobo murmured, though he didn’t elaborate further on the odd statement. “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts?”

“Of course,” Skookum blinked at the sudden non-sequitor. The Hobo gave a sly smile at the answer. “ Now, care to tell me what you’re doing hitching a ride on my train?”

“Your- your train?” This seemed to greatly amuse the scruffy human, because rather than looking contrite at being caught he doubled over with wheezy laughter. “Your train, that’s rich.”

Skookum frowned and crossed their arms, not seeing just what was so funny.

“I ride this train whenever I want.” The Hobo straightened with a smirk. “Don’t need nothing fancy like a ticket. And there ain’t nothing you or anybody can do about it. You could say I own the PolEx. This is my train.”

Well, if this wasn’t the most arrogant homeless rail-rider the engine had ever met. “And here I thought this train belonged to Santa Claus.” 

“Oh? And tell me. What exactly is your opinion on the Big Guy?”

Skookum shrugged. They had seen a number of odd things over the course of the night, suddenly it wasn’t quite so easy to dismiss the idea of a jolly human in a red suit delivering presents to the children of the world. Still. . “Well, I guess we’ll see when we reach our destination, won’t we? Assuming we’re truly going to the real North Pole.”

The Hobo suddenly looked thoughtful. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Before Skookum could make a retort, the man tipped his hat and vanished. As though a passing breeze had dissolved him into snow. Just like a ghost. 

\-----  
By Midnight, Edward had fell into a light doze in the South Tidmouth shed when he was roused by a soft groan from the next stall. The other engine in the shed was on his blind side, so Edward had a hard time seeing just what was going on. Something seemed a bit strange around the Pere Marquette’s smokebox though. “Hello? Is someone there?”

“H-hello?” The reply was soft, as though the speaker wasn’t used to talking to others. “You are Edward, yes? The one who brought me to this shed when I broke down?”

“I am.” Apparently, Pere Marquette 1225 wasn’t as lifeless as Edward had thought. It wasn’t unheard of for an engine to retreat so far inside themselves their face was no longer visible. In fact, it often happened to engines put on long-term static display after retirement. Such things were relatively uncommon on Sodor though. 

“Thank you for helping me. You and your friend.” The other engine offered. “I am very grateful that you gave up your Christmas for me.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Edward replied, always a bit nervous when being thanked simply for doing what needed to be done. “You needed the help. And I know Skookum wasn’t having a very good holiday, I’m sure they’d rather be out pulling your train than sitting alone in a shed.”

“Not a good holiday? Why is that?”

“Skookum is new to the island. This is their first Christmas away from their old friends, their old railway. In a place where we don’t speak their language.” Edward sighed. “Here on Sodor, all of the engines are from other railways. And some take the relocation better than others.” 

The big Berkshire made an understanding noise. “Yes, I was once an engine on a normal. Well, non-magical railway. Before I began pulling the Polar Express.”

“The Polar Express is magic, then?” Edward asked curiously. “Does it truly run to the North Pole?”

“Oh yes. The track exists for just this one night. I pick up children from across the world and take them to the North Pole, where one will be chosen to receive the first gift of Christmas.” 

“Really? How nice, I bet the children love that.” Edward smiled at the thought. Sudrian Christmas celebrations weren’t nearly so magical, though lovely in their own right. “I do hope Skookum enjoys it too, I had only just been arguing with them about Santa Claus when you went by.”

“Oh? Is your friend a non-believer then? Interesting.” 1225 was contemplative. “Perhaps that is why I broke down when I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing happens without a reason. Although, I do wish the magic had chosen a slightly less painful way of getting it’s way.” The large engine grinned ruefully. A broken crosshead really did hurt, even if it would soon be repaired. 

Edward chuckled briefly, well aware of how unpleasant such an injury was. Still, the more he heard about the American engine, the more curious he became. “What do you do the other 364 days of the year? And, forgive me, but is there a name you prefer?”

“Sleep, mostly.” There really was little to do during the other seasons, when the elves were all busy preparing presents for the next year. “That’s why I very rarely talk like this. And, well, properly my title is Pere Marquette 1225. Usually I am just called by my road number. Though, I think I'd like the name Noel.” The big steamer admitted shyly

“Noel, then. It's a wonderful name” Edward had never been comfortable calling other engines by a simple, impersonal number. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, you said you didn’t always pull a magic train. That sounds like an interesting job, how did you end up with it?”  
\-------- 

Hopping back down into the cab from their tender, Skookum looked at the two human crew members pretending to attend to the controls. “Did you know this train has a ghost?”

“A ghost?” Smokey turned, a hand stroking his long, red beard nervously. “Whaddya mean ‘a ghost’?”

“Well, he looked like a Hobo. Probably jumped down onto the tender to keep from being scraped off the coaches in that tunnel. But then he just. Vanished.” Skookum motioned with their hands to illustrate.

“Well, no time to worry about ghosts.” Steamer stuck his head out the window briefly before pulling back in and easing the throttle. “Glacier gulch ahead.”

“Glacier gulch?” Skookum was back in their true body in the blink of an eye, just in time to see a pair of worn wooden signs. The first read ‘Danger: 179 degree Grade,” followed by another bearing the warning “Use Low Gear.”

What did they mean, 179 degree grade? That was almost vertically straight down, physically impossible. Then Skookum saw what was on the other side of the mountain’s summit and, impossible or not, in front of them stretched what appeared to be a rickety wooden rollercoaster track. 

There was no way that could support a 200 ton steam engine with a train of heavyweight Pullman cars. But apparently they were going down it anyway, because even as Skookum slowed back the weight of the train pushed them over the crest and down the other side. 

The world abruptly dropped out from under Skookum, causing a dizzying feel of weightlessness as they hurtled down the steep slope. Drivers were suddenly free of the engine’s weight, threatening to lift fully off the track, and Skookum couldn’t even find the breath to scream. 

Then the track abruptly leveled out, causing all 200 tons of Skookum’s weight to slam back down onto their frame. Boiler water sloshed heavily over the crownsheet, shaking the engine’s very rivets, but there was barely time to recover before they dropped down again. 

After a few more gut-wrenching peaks and troughs, the roller-coaster track spat them out onto a frozen lake. Skookum didn’t even question how someone had managed to embed steel rails into the ice, not after everything else they’d seen that night, and just concentrated on trying to stay on them. The ice nearly met the top of the rails, and Skookum could occasionally feel a few of their wheels slip off and back on. They didn’t want to think about what would happen if the train derailed out here in the middle of the arctic. 

 

\---

In the dark shed in South Tidmouth, the locomotive newly dubbed Noel allowed themselves to remember events of days long past. 

“I was a freight engine, believe it or not,” Noel began, “Built in 1941, for the Pere Marquette railway of course. I carried steel, and freight for the war for a while. I gave them a good ten years of service. But then, there was a merger. Pere Marquette was no more. I kept on for a few years, but soon my new owners decided they weren’t going to run me and my siblings anymore. We all went to the scrapyard.”

“Oh,” Edward said softly. He had expected such a story, it was all too common to hear from newcomers to the island, but it still made him sad. 

“I sat in the scrapyard for a while. I think they were trying to find a buyer for me, but nobody wanted an old steamer. I slept to pass the time, not seeing or hearing.” Noel paused, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part of the story. “But then. One night. I guess it must have been very early Christmas day. Snow had fallen overnight, covering me like a blanket. I probably looked very little like an engine, more like a snowdrift.

“There was a whistle, one I didn’t know, and suddenly there was a train sitting on a set of tracks in front of me. A very old engine was pulling the train, older than any I had met before, with a set of very fine coaches. Well, you’ve seen the coaches, they’re the same ones I pull now. Anyway.

“This engine. He looked at me, and he asked if I wanted a new job. I don’t remember if I said anything, but I do remember being hooked up behind the Observation Car at the end of the train.”

“So, there was another engine that pulled the train before you?” Edward didn’t want to interrupt the story, but was dreadfully curious about the magical train. 

“Oh yes. I think there’s been a Polar Express as long as there’s been steam engines.” Noel said thoughtfully. “I might be the third or fourth engine. Every year, the children of the world believe a little less in magic, so the train gets longer and more coaches are added as we travel further and pick up more of them. Some day, I may have to find my own replacement.

“I was taken to the North Pole. And oh, the sight will always be incredible to me. All the lights and sounds. They’ve got a team of elves up there who specialize in steam engines, and they immediately set to work getting me running again.”

“And the engine who came before you?”

“Taken to the workshops, I think.” Noel had never put too much thought in it, though she knew the older engine hadn’t been scrapped. Nothing was ever truly thrown away at the North Pole. “There, they use miniature gauge engines to get things from department to department. The buildings are absolutely enormous, it’s the easiest way. The magic of the elves can do amazing things, from making things grow or shrink to altering time itself.”

Edward was just glad to know that the nameless engine had received a happy retirement. He didn’t like to think of any engine being tossed aside. “That sounds nice. You know, I thought it odd you didn’t speak when I first saw you. I didn’t think you were alive at all.”

“I guess, even after my rescue, I didn’t see any need for it. I spend most of the year in a shed at the North Pole. A very nice shed, but I’m the only engine in it. And when I am taken out on a run, I have my crew there.”

“You never get to leave your shed during the year?” There were few things that sounded as awful to Edward. “Even in your human form?”

“Human form?”  
\----

Somehow the train managed to stay on the rails, passing through a deep cut on the other side of the lake before spiraling up a steep mountain peak. It was slightly disturbing to feel one’s body actually bend around the tight curves, but then they were out onto a gorgeous viaduct that stretched off into the distance. 

“There she is.” Steamer leaned out the window, indicating a cluster of lights visible across the vast frozen sea. “The North Pole.”

“So it does exist.” Skookum murmured in wonder as the train snaked across the broad curves of the raised viaduct. “Wow.”

The train was slowed down as they were brought into a city of narrow streets and tall brick buildings. It looked like any modern city, except for the fact that it was completely empty of people. Weren’t there supposed to be elves and reindeer at the North Pole? The buildings had to house –somebody.-

In the center of the city, Skookum saw just where everyone had gone. Filling an enormous square, surrounding a twenty-story tall decorated Christmas tree, were thousands of beings that could only be elves. The sea of bodies parted as the train chugged slowly into the square before coming to a stop in a hiss of steam. Every part of Skookum’s body ached from the journey, but never had the streamliner felt so alive. This was the honest-to-goodness North Pole, full of elves and magic and presents. 

A stream of children disembarked the coaches and followed behind the conductor to a place of honor in the center of the square. No way would Skookum stay here in the back, so they transferred to their human form and followed after. Nothing like a front-row seat to the show. 

The Conductor startled badly when he checked to make sure all the children were still there and found a tall stranger in a long black overcoat among them. “And who are you?”

Skookum allowed themselves a faint smile. This was actually kind of fun. Sudrian crews just didn’t get surprised by things anymore.“Skookum, your locomotive. I wanted to get a better look at the show, can’t see too much back there you know.” They jerked a thumb backward towards where their real body stood at the rear of the immense crowd. 

“Well. Since you did get us here on time, I suppose I can allow it.” The Conductor smiled as well, all the stress of the trip melting away now that they had actually arrived. And with a few minutes to spare, even. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Of course.” Skookum shrugged. “That’s what Christmas is about, right? Helping people?”

“Very apt.” The Conductor murmured before turning back around. 

On a raised dais in front of the enormous tree, a traditional sleigh sat with traces laid out in front of it. It was empty, no reindeer or Santa or presents. Skookum wasn’t entirely certain just what it was they were all waiting for when there was a shout from the children and several of them pointed up at the sky. 

Just beyond the Christmas tree some kind of flying craft came into view, an enormous red sack bulging with presents suspended it from it. It just barely cleared the star atop the tree, releasing a cadre of elves that landed by parachute on the ground below, before the bag was unhooked and fell the last few feet to the waiting sleigh. 

With the presents precariously perched atop the sleigh, which looked much smaller with the sack towering above it, more elves led out a group of deer with festive red harnesses. 

“They really do fly,” Skookum murmured, unheard over the excited shouting of the children. The reindeer seemed eager to leave the ground, multiple elves required just to keep the creatures from lifting off into the sky. 

The traces were expertly connected to the harnesses, the reindeer tossing their antlers with impatience. More elves brought out the final part of the harnesses, the silver sleigh bells, which incited much cheering from the crowd. Oddly, Skookum could hear none of their famous ringing. Maybe it was a little kid thing, or a human thing. 

As the cheering morphed into the discordant noise of a crowd of thousands raising their voices in song, a tall figure dressed all in red stepped out of the impressive building at the edge of the square. 

The crowd exploded, reminding Skookum of eager fans greeting a famous star, and the engine’s breath caught. It really was him. There was no mistaking this man for a hired Santa. Skookum couldn’t quite explain what it was that set him apart, he just seemed to glow from within as he stepped down and addressed the children who were staring in wonder. He had the kind of voice that boomed around the square while never seeming loud or intimidating. Then, he came down the line to the tall black-clad figure standing apart.

“Well, Hello. I must say, I have never been visited by one of your kind before.”

Skookum straightened self consciously as –the- Santa Claus stopped in front of them. “Well, I. Uh, pulled the train this year, sir. Your usual engine broke down.”

“And a fine job of it you did. Thank you.” Father Christmas smiled softly, and suddenly Skookum could hear the beautiful chime of a hundred bells from the sleigh. How odd that they hadn’t been audible before. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you’d like for Christmas?”

Skookum shrugged. “Living engines don’t have much want for material things. I just. . . want a place that I can call home again.”

“A very heartfelt wish. Though you may not be able to return to your old home, I believe your new one is full of friends who love you.” Santa lay a hand on Skookum’s shoulder encouragingly. “Cherish them.”

A tear threatened to slip from Skookum’s eye, but they held it in through force of will. They would not cry, especially not here and now. “Thank you sir. Merry Christmas.” Skookum nodded respectfully and vanished. 

From the high vantage point afforded by their real body, Skookum watched as one of the children was awarded the First Gift of Christmas. The clocktower at the edge of the square chimed midnight, bells loud and booming, and the gift-filled sleigh rose into the air before flying off to deliver presents to the children of the world.

\----

It took Noel about an hour to get the hang of using a human form. Edward watched with a smile as she ran around the shed, enjoying having the ability to turn doorknobs and open windows. 

“I’ll be able to see the whole North Pole this way.” She said excitedly. “I can’t wait to see the workshops, visit the miniature engines. Look around the town. It’ll be great.”

“So you won’t spend the whole year in your shed sleeping, then?” Edward asked, sitting on his footplate with an amused expression.

“No, I won’t.” Noel calmed down a bit, getting over the initial rush of being able to –do- things without a crew there controlling her every move. “Thank you, Edward. I can put in a good word for you with the boss, if there’s anything you want.”

Edward simply shook his head. “No, there’s nothing that I want. Seeing others happy is enough.”

“You’re a very kind engine, Edward. I am glad to have met you.” Noel gave the other engine an awkward hug, an attempt to imitate the affections she saw the children give eachother every year.”

“Of course.” Edward returned the gesture with more ease before both engines returned to their bodies. “Do you think I’d be able to write you letters? I know you can’t possibly stop for a chat on your way every year.”

Noel chuckled. “To think, letters going to the North Pole for someone other than Santa Claus. I think that’d be fine. And I can write you back. Well, I can’t write, but I’m sure I can find an elf to take a letter for me.”

“I’d like that.” There was silence in the shed for a moment while Edward looked out the small windows into the dark, snowy night. “I wonder if Skookum’s doing alright.”

\-----

Once the children had re-boarded the coaches, Skookum backed the train down to a circular track that would return them to the viaduct across the frozen Arctic Sea facing the right way around. The journey back seemed to go by faster, though maybe that’s just because the impossible railway was now somewhat familiar. Caribou trotted alongside the train as they passed out of the Arctic Circle and back south of the tree line, then even they were left behind for the lights of the world’s cities. The snow had stopped, leaving a silent world broken only by the deep-throated hoot of Skookum’s whistle as they stopped to let the children off one-by-one. 

Finally, the last child was dropped off at a small house in Tidmouth and Skookum returned to the stretch of track where they had first picked up the train. The broken-down engine had been moved, of course, so Skookum continued on to the small South Tidmouth shed where Edward had taken Pere Marquette 1225. 

“How will you all get back?” Skookum asked as they left the coaches on a siding next to the shed. 

“Don’t you worry about us,” The Conductor reassured, patting the engine’s running board. “I’ve already called for a pick up. They probably won’t be back for the ol’ 1225 until Boxing day, though. Christmas Day is an official day of rest for the North Pole, don’t ya know.”

“Keep ‘er company for us, will ya?” Steamer asked, stepping down from the cab to uncouple the coaches.

Smokey quickly followed, removing the capacitor from Skookum’s backhead and retrieving his shovel before stepping down onto the ground. There was a sound like a sigh of the wind as Skookum’s livery returned to normal, the words ‘Polar Express’ on their tender rearranging to read ‘Northern Pacific’ once more.

“Of, of course.” Skookum said faintly, taking a moment to recover from the magical rush. 

“Do you need any help getting into the shed?” The Conductor asked as Skookum pulled forward away from the coaches. 

“I’ll be alright.” Skookum reassured, switching over a set of points to get onto the track that led into the sheds. “And besides, I have one more thing to do first.”

“If you say so.” The Conductor shrugged. “Well, looks like our ride is here.”

With an odd thropping sound, some kind of propeller driven lighter-than-air craft landed on the ground next to the shed. What had to be the pilot elf lifted up the goggles on his flight cap and looked up at the humans crossly. “Do you know how much trouble it was to get down here for you guys? You’d better be glad the Big Man likes you so much.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Herm.” The Conductor clambered up into the little craft, followed closely by Smokey and, with a bit more difficulty, Steamer. “Goodbye, Skookum. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Skookum called back, watching the aircraft lift back up into the sky with amusement. A bit odd, but in all a good group of people. 

‘I’ll probably never see them again.’ The Streamliner thought a bit sadly. At least they had good memories to recall.

Using their human form, Skookum pried open the door to the shed to reveal Edward and his companion. The two engines looked out at the sudden rush of cold air with surprise, Edward breaking into a smile when he saw just who it was. “Skookum, welcome back. How was the run?”

“It certainly was. . . interesting.” Skookum wasn’t sure just how to put it into words as they backed into the shed until they touched Edward’s buffers. “I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

“Where are we going?” Edward watched Skookum couple them together curiously. 

“Why, to Tidmouth Sheds, of course. Didn’t you want to spend Christmas with James?” Skookum carefully adjusted their controls and pulled the other engine out of the shed. 

“Well, yes. But what about Noel?” Edward very much wanted to be with his partner, but didn’t want to leave the poor broken-down engine alone. 

“Noel?” Skookum looked back, wondering briefly when the other engine had gained a face. “Well, I certainly have to spend the night somewhere, don’t I? I’ll be back to this shed as soon as I drop you off.”

As the two made their way along the mainline, Skookum told Edward all about their journey to the North Pole. The blue engine was a wonderful listener, gasping at all the right parts and laughing at Skookum’s description of the utterly impossible railway. 

“I’m telling you, my firebox nearly fell out right through my frame!” Skookum complained, sharing the harrowing trip through Glacier Gulch. “Steam engines just aren’t meant to be roller coasters.”

Edward chuckled. “Yes, Noel was telling me about a trip a few years ago where she went through Glacier Gulch at full speed because a cotter pin had sheered off. And with the Conductor and two passengers on the front of the engine, no less.”

Skookum shuddered just at the thought. “Now –that- sounds terrifying.”

Before either of them knew it, they had arrived at Tidmouth Sheds. Several of the engines were already asleep, even, much to Skookum’s amusement, Thomas and Percy. James, however, was awake in his stall. The red engine’s entire face lit up when he saw Edward being shunted into the stall next to his. “Edward!”

“Happy Christmas, James.” Edward responded as Skookum uncoupled from him. “And thank you very much Skookum.”

“Yes, thank you Skookum.” James said with a surprising amount of emotion, considering that the red engine almost never thanked anyone for anything. 

“Of course.” Skookum smiled and headed back for the shed in South Tidmouth. Pere was, of course, waiting right where she’d been left. The big Berkshire seemed quite excited indeed about her new shedmate. 

“So, how did the run go?” Noel asked as Skookum shut the big doors for the night. “The kids didn’t give you any trouble, I hope?”

“The kids? No. Everything else, yes.” Skookum heaved a dramatic sigh and began another retelling of their adventures of the night. Noel just listened quietly with a knowing smile on her face.

 

Christmas Day on Sodor was usually a quiet day for the island’s many engines. But as the engines and humans spent more time together, more and more engines chose to spend the day using their human forms to see the human world outside. Noel and Skookum enjoyed walking around south Tidmouth, watching humans going about their holiday business. Carolers wandered the streets in Victorian finery, singing all the classic holiday tunes from their little songbooks, and Noel confided in Skookum that, though the elves loved Christmas music, they thankfully only broadcast it over the North Pole in December. 

“Otherwise I probably wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore.” Noel laughed as they took a seat around a frozen fountain. 

“What else do you do during the year?” Skookum asked curiously, watching as a group of children ran squealing by with Candy Canes in hand. 

“I used to sleep.” Noel admitted. “Not much else to do. Now I can do this, though. Always wanted to see the rest of the North Pole, I hear the elves throw wild parties for the other holidays.”

“Haha, sounds great. We don’t do much for the holidays here. At least, not the engines. Mostly just help the humans with their preparations.” Skookum smirked. “I hear James is very popular on Valentine’s Day.”

 

With all the fun of the holiday, both engines slept soundly that night. But in the early morning of Boxing day, even before Skookum’s crew arrived to stoke up their boiler, the two were awoken by the creak of the shed door being eased open. 

“Quiet now, don’t need any humans being alerted.” A group of elves hurried into the shed before closing the door behind them. “Remember, we’re here to get the 1225 and get out.”

“Hello, Bernie.” Noel said softly. “Here to bust me out, then?”

Bernie, the leader of the squadron, stopped in surprise at the sight of the familiar locomotive with a smiling face on her smokebox. “Well. I see you’ve enjoyed your little vacation, 1225.”

“Call me Noel.” 

“Noel, then.” Bernie acknowledged. The other elves formed a circle around the engine and began preparing some complicated magic. “Hold still. We’ve already gotten the coaches, now we’ve just got to transport you back to the Pole for repair.”

In the next stall, Skookum awoke with a snort and looked over with some surprise at the gathering of elves. “Time to go home, then, Noel?”

“Yes, it is. The Elves will have me fixed up in no time.” Noel's body began to shimmer as the transportation spell activated. “I promise to write as often as I can. To you and to Edward. Thank you for taking my train.”

“Any time. And if you pass through Sodor next year, be sure to say hello.”

“Of course.”

With a shimmer of light, Pere Marquette 1225 and her escort of elves vanished. Until next Christmas, of course.


End file.
